mungbean in india
 

Dilliwala

key

So here we are then.  I’m now a Dilliwala—a resident of Delhi.

The past 3 weeks have been a bit hectic and complicated, given that I started a new job while living in a hotel, and meanwhile had to find a new apartment within 14 days and register the address at the Foreigners Registration Office.  But I managed it, and this time it’s an order of magnitude easier than when I first arrived in India 2 years ago, when I didn’t really have a clue what was going on, or any appreciation whatsoever of the enormity of Indian Bureaucracy.

I moved into my new place a week ago, and since then have been living from a large “to-do” list, buying bedding and kitchenware and food and whatever else from the nearby local markets.

So far, Delhi is looking pretty good, and very different from Bangalore.  The main surprise being how cold it was… I certainly didn’t expect to be wearing a fleece, hat and scarf (even in the office), and I’ve been using a range of fan-heaters every day.  I’ve got through 3 in the office already because they keep blowing up.  At home I have a nice oscillating one that cost an arm and a leg, but it’s doing the business.  And I’ve got a quilt on the bed, which probably will be gone soon and put into storage for 10 months.

This weekend it seemed like the winter ended suddenly, with proper blue skies breaking through and the daytime temperature getting into the 20s.  I think we can probably expect a few weeks of “Spring” and then the Summer will kick in, but I’m not certain at this point.

Anyway, I have a nice flat in Defence Colony, in South Delhi.  Which seems like a good place to be, except I have to commute for over an hour to get to work—currently on foot, then metro (changing twice), and then 10 minutes by cycle-rickshaw to finally get to the office.

The metro is really impressive: very efficient, clean and modern.  Just like most other metro systems I’ve been on, except with very high security—every station has 2 queues for airport-style metal detectors as you go in, one for women and one for men, and a conveyor-belt X-ray machine for the bags.  As you go through the metal detectors you get frisked and swept with a hand-held metal detector, and then you go through the ticket barriers.  In some stations there’s a “nest” built with sand-bags, housing a soldier/policeman with a rifle or machine gun.  Most of this makes everyone feel safe I guess.

 

Delhi Metro

 

Slightly less safe is getting on and off the actual train, especially at very busy times like Sunday afternoon.  There’s always a lot of pushing and shoving, albeit with smiles.  It’s also very male-dominated, around 95-100%, which felt odd at first.  The first coach in the train is for women only.

My new apartment has a balcony, which I’m desperate to fill with plants as quickly as possible. I was trying to explain this to a friend today, and I think it’s something to do with control, but also exercising mastery—I know what I’m doing with plants.  Whereas when it comes to something like interior decor  I’m much less proficient.

I’m staying in a relatively quiet corner of Defence Colony, overlooking a nice little park.  Car horns are fairly minimal, although there are quite a few very vocal dogs on this block.  The cries of the local fruit and veg walas are pretty loud too, when they’re pushing round their hand-carts.  Why anyone would want to buy cauliflower at 7.30am on a Sunday is beyond me.  I guess I’ll get used to them, given time.

 

Balcony

 

In the quest for plants I went to Sunder Nursery yesterday, a place that was recommended to me on a forum I use a lot, and only a 10-minute auto ride from my flat.  The cash office was closed for lunch, but as luck would have it, it’s directly across the road from the entrance to a significant monument—the 16th century tomb of Humayun, the second Mughal emperor.  It looks like an early prototype for the Taj Mahal, set in formal gardens, and is very peaceful.  Not a bad place to kill an hour while the garden centre opens.  It seems there are lots of these Mughal-era tombs in this part of Delhi, all really close by.

To find such amazing bits of history right on my doorstep is very welcome, and one of the benefits of leaving Bangalore behind.

 

Humayun's Tomb

 

As with many monuments there’s a higher entrance rate for “foreigners”, so I waved my PAN card and asked for a “domestic” ticket in Hindi—Ek swadeshi ticket dijye—and got in for 10 rupees rather than 250.  I’ve already begun to realise that speaking Hindi here is going to be very important… even at work, where everyone seems to drop in and out of it during meetings without giving it a second thought.  A good incentive to step up my efforts though, and from tomorrow I’ll be having classes twice a week.  (If my brain can take it.)

* * *

When I first moved to India, 2 years ago, I told myself it would be an adventure… only later realising what this would actually entail in terms of what you put in, and what you get out.  I’ve also described Bangalore to many friends as “India for Beginners”.  Compared to most of this crazy, complicated, enriching and inspiring country, Bangalore is pretty easy to get on with.

In contrast, I’ve been thinking of Delhi as more of a challenge. It will be much more extreme in many ways. It is much more traditional than somewhere like Bangalore, and has a reputation as being very difficult for women—something which came to a head in December with the tragic and terrible gang-rape and murder which was noticed around the world, and which was the constant topic of conversation when I was talking to folk back home about where I was moving to in January.

The weather is also going to be a serious challenge—in the heatwave of June 2012 it was 45 degrees here for a couple of weeks.  There are also dust-storms that blow in from Rajasthan, and I’ve already experienced the cold of winter.  Although the cold is nothing by European standards, nobody has any real heating, windows don’t fit or close properly, and most houses have stone or tiled floors.  Cold weather is easy when you have double glazing and central heating.

On the other hand, there is still a vast amount of India for me to explore, and I’m really looking forward to that.  Being 1000 miles closer to the Himalayas is particularly exciting.  There are also several Tiger reserves up here in the North, and the Taj Mahal is even “doable” in a day from here.

So… onwards and upwards.  It’s the lunar New Year today, and the start of the Chinese year of the Snake, which is my own sign.  I’m not really sure what this signifies (and I had nightmares about snakes when I first moved to India), but it’s as good a time as any to be marking a new start.  And to find out what it means to be a Dilliwala.

 

 

 


Chapter 2

luggage

 

Right then—I’m back in India!

The 4 weeks back home in the UK flew by incredibly quickly, and sadly I spent the last 12 days down with a nasty virus and doing very little apart from coughing, sleeping and experimenting with various flu remedies.  Many of my grand plans for visiting friends fell by the wayside.

I left the UK just as the first major snow-fall of the winter was arriving.  7 hours later I was in Dubai looking at the blue skies and feeling hugely over-dressed.  And now I’m in Delhi.

Which feels like being back in India… except it doesn’t.  For a start it’s chilly!

I was very spaced-out when I arrived, mainly due to having no sleep at all on the journey.  So when I stepped out of the hotel to explore the area I’m staying in, I was feeling a bit disconnected.   Wearing a jacket—and even a scarf—I wandered up the street without really thinking.  First thing I saw was a guy pedalling around in a cycle-rickshaw with a huge, old-fashioned horn speaker on the top.  He had a sound system running off batteries and was blaring out some recorded propaganda for something or other.  A large grey dog was sitting on the passenger seat, looking around at everyone as if it felt very important.

Strange and random sights in the street–yeah OK, so it does feel like India.

So I’m doing the usual jet-lag thing… wide-awake in the hotel room at 3am writing this, when I should really be forcing myself to sleep.  Wrapped in a very warm but basic army-issue type woollen blanket, and with a small fan-heater doing its best to pump the room full of warm air, even though there are gaps in the windows where they don’t close properly.

Sunday I will be trying to get my bearings a bit, and to reset my body clock.  And then on Monday morning I start my new job.

So here we go then—the start of Chapter 2.  Another 2 years… at least.  Bring it on!

 


OK 2013

OK 2013

It’s 2013—Happy New Year!

Changes are definitely on the cards here… my new employment visa was granted yesterday, my plane ticket is booked and I’m off to Delhi in 2 weeks.

Meanwhile I’m making the most of being back in the UK, seeing family and lots of friends, eating great food and drinking nice beer.

Here’s to all the new opportunities in the year ahead!


Two Years

17dec2010

Well, I made it.  It’s exactly 2 years since I arrived in India.

And I’m just about to leave Bangalore.  My last day at work is tomorrow, and then I have one more day after that to finish sorting things out before I fly back to the UK for a few weeks.

The last couple of months have gone by really fast, and inevitably I still have a mental list of “things I never did” while I was in Bangalore.  I’m sure I’ll be back here at some point though.

I’m really looking forward to some proper time off, and to seeing family and friends again after so long.  I’ve only been out of India once this whole time, and that was 3 days in Singapore for a training course.

Then after the break I’ll be flying back to India in mid-January to start all over again, this time 1000 miles further North, in Delhi.

 

Bangalore to Delhi

 


Britishness

Sometimes, to see something properly you have to stand a long way away from it.

On the morning of 29 July 2012 I watched the opening ceremony of the London Olympics on the Internet. I watched as soon as I got up, around 7.30am, without my usually reading of the morning’s news over breakfast, to avoid any spoilers since it had gone out live the night before. As a piece of spectacle and theatre I thought it was really fantastic; even though I had problems with bandwidth and the playback was stopping and starting all the way through, like many people I found the whole thing tremendously satisfying and moving, and I felt very pleased and proud of what creative director Danny Boyle had achieved. And, along with a large proportion of the folks back home, immensely relieved that the UK had avoided embarrassing itself while the world was watching.

Since I had been in India for 18 months at that point, reflecting on this led me, inevitably, to think about being British.

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Small Things #6

On a dark, busy, Friday evening in Bangalore I stop in the wine shop on my way home from work.  It’s spacious and modern, with steel and glass frontage.  Several businessmen are eyeing up the 18-year old imported single malt whiskey, which is very expensive.

On the counter next to the window are a couple of small Hindu idols with garlands of fresh flowers round their necks, along with a large bunch of bananas, half a coconut, and a couple of apples. Several different types of incense are burning, filling the shop with fragrant smoke.

The scenario plays out exactly the same as any other Friday when I’ve dropped by.

I join the long queue with my beers, and watch the young man behind the counter. While his colleague rings up the purchases on the till, he is busily doing some kind of pooja.

He’s holding a bunch of burning incense sticks in his hand, waving them around in 3 small circles over each object to bless it – first the computer, then the debit card machine, then the drawer of the till with all the money in it.  He puts the incense physically inside the drawer and almost closes it, filling the drawer with the smoke.  Then he takes it out again, touches his chest and his lips in a gesture of blessing, and moves onto the second computer.

As I’m about to pay, a Hijra in a saree comes into the shop, carrying a small yellow lime.  She re-arranges the doormat as if she’s somehow involved in the running of the shop, and then approaches the young man, who without speaking hands her a bunch of small white things that look like mothballs but are torpedo-shaped.  The Hijra pushes these things into the top of the lime and lights them with a cigarette lighter.  While the shop man carries on with his blessings, the Hijra performs her own pooja, moving the burning lime around in circles, looking serious, and blessing various objects on the counter. The manager of the shop cautiously moves a pile of invoices away from the flames.

As I leave the shop, the Hijra is outside, ceremoniously placing the burning lime in the middle of the step that leads down to the street full of speeding autos and cars honking in the dark.  Once she has done all this, she will get her money from the shop manager.

 


Small Things #5

About 8.30am, and I’m walking to work down a residential side-street.  A woman comes out of her house with a large bowl of food scraps.  She goes to the corner of the street and calls something out.

A huge black and white friesian cow comes waddling up to her, and she puts the bowl down on the ground in front of it.

As it starts eating, she touches the cow on its rump, mutters something, and blesses herself.


The Days are Going Very Fast

Eating my breakfast at 8am. The doorbell rings and Kannagi my maid lets herself in with the key I gave her.

We  exchange pleasantries and as usual she heads straight into the kitchen, puts down her handbag and her phone, and starts chopping and cooking.  Once that’s under way, she starts sweeping the floors while the pressure cooker hisses away.

“The days are going very fast now, brother”, she says.

I agree, and we smile a sad smile at each other.

In 4 weeks I will be leaving Bangalore.

And in January I will be flying to Delhi to start a new job, in a new college, in a new city.   Chapter 2.


Nearly There

Only four and a half weeks to go and I’ll be home!  For the first time in 2 years.  

Well I’ll be back in the UK anyway–I’m not really sure where “home” is these days. But it will be great to see my family for Christmas, and after that possibly living the life of an itinerant couch-surfer for 3 weeks, catching up with dear friends, many of whom seem to have participated in the British Baby Boom this year.

Of course I’m looking forward to seeing everyone, but I’m wondering how I’m going to feel about being back there in the least hospitable part of the year–dark, cold and probably wet.  Or snowy. Which might be nice but then again I had just lived through 2 of the worst winters in recent memory before I came out to India, and could quite happily do without all the disruption to public transport if I’m going to be zipping up and down the country.  I think I would prefer crisp air, frosty fields, blue skies and everyone remarking on how mild it is.

I’m also wondering what it will feel like to be back there.  Many of my early blog posts here were related to culture shock, and supposedly there’s such a thing as “reverse culture-shock” that you experience when you go back home.

One thing is for certain–it’s going to be weird to be cold again.  I’ve only felt properly cold twice while I’ve been in India, once in Ahmedbad in the January just after I first arrived, and again a few weeks ago when I spent the night sleeping out on the sand dunes in the Thar desert in Rajasthan.  Until then I had literally forgotten what being cold felt like.  Meanwhile here in Bangalore, all the small children are wearing knitted balaclavas now that the mornings are “chilly” (about 14-15 degrees)…

Time feels like it’s speeding up all of a sudden, and I’m counting the days.

 


Small Things #4

Saturday lunchtime. It’s about 25 degrees.  A boy of around 7 years old nonchalantly wanders about in bare feet, daydreaming and singing to himself, outside a shop on a busy road.

He’s wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and a fluorescent, lime green, knitted balaclava.